Hiding, Coming Clean. Starting over.

There is only one real explanation as to why I haven't been blogging lately. I could lie to myself and say it's due to all the stress of moving (we're moving to Michigan in three weeks!) but that's not it. I am not blogging because I am not in a good place right now in terms of my recovery. I am not eating enough. I am losing weight. I am not proud of this, but one thing I have never been is a liar. Over the past year and a half, you, my beautiful readers, have become my friends. I respect you all too much to lie to you. Also, I love you enough to urge you not to follow my mistakes.

I know. That sounds messed up. It's like a parent who smokes cigarettes then warns their children to never smoke. It's contradictory. It's a little hypocritical. But it comes from a place of love. It comes from a place of, "I want to save you from making the same mistakes I've made. I want you to have a better life than I've had." In other words, I am human. Eating disorders suck. They are hard to recover from, but not impossible. Recovery is worth it. This disease doesn't have to be all-encompassing. I haven't forgotten that. I will always believe that. Even if, right now, it doesn't really seem like it.

Ultimately, I know that I need treatment. I need help. I cannot do this on my own. I am no longer too proud to admit that. I have avoided formal treatment for my eating disorder for the past 7 years. I like to blame it on my contempt for doctors (you can read a blog post I wrote about it HERE) but that's not the real reason either. The truth is simple: I don't want to give up control. Hmm. Let me repeat that:

I don't want to give up control.

At this point, "control" is such an eating-disorder buzz-word that it's almost lost its meaning. But, honestly, that's really what it comes down to-- I'm terrified of not being in control. Terrified. The thought of handing my life over to a staff of medical professionals makes my throat feel tight and my heart beat quickly. I get that little pit in my stomach. I want to hide, to run away. Basically, I want to keep doing what I'm doing, even though I know it isn't the solution.

Of course, you could make the argument that I'm not in control as it is-- that my eating disorder is controlling everything. While that may be true, I am more comfortable allowing my eating disorder to manage my life than a nurse or a doctor or a therapist or a hospital bed. It's not that I don't want to lose my eating disorder. I do. I just want to do it my way.

Obviously, my way isn't really working.

I know my life is changing drastically within the next few months: I am moving to Michigan, I am (at some point) getting married, we're looking to buy a house, I am starting a new job. And I realized that, for the last several years, my life has never been calm. I'm always moving from one state to another, starting jobs, quitting jobs, moving on. Changing. Expanding. I have never allowed myself to stay put and just to be. I think that would help a lot. It's time to stay put in one town long enough to make friends, to feel familiar, to redefine my negative definition of "home" by building one of my own.

On a side note, I'm thinking of tutoring once I get to Michigan for some extra income in addition to being a professional writer and a part-time makeup artist. I've been applying for teaching positions at colleges and universities, but none have worked out yet. I'm keeping my fingers crossed. My hopes for Michigan are high. I've never been there and I don't know what to expect, but I'm staying positive. As cliche as it sounds, I'm going to let myself start over.

Fresh start.

New beginning.

All baggage left behind.

Can it really be done? We'll see.

"You may have to fight a battle more than once to win it. " - Margaret Thatcher

Today the thoughts of restricting were alarmingly loud and persistent. I haven't (really) restricted in a long time, nor have I had this much of a desire to. Normally, I'm past counting calories. I don't usually give too much thought about what I'm "permitted" to eat. That's because I don't have to ask permission to eat anymore. I just eat whatever I want. Today, however, I didn't want to eat anything. More than that, I wanted precisely to eat nothing.

I went as far, God I don't want to admit this, as to write down everything I ate along with how many calories were in each item. I hadn't done that in YEARS! Nothing good can come of this. Nothing.

I'm left wondering what to do now? Of course, I know restricting is NOT an option. It's never an option. In the end, I won. I ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner. But the desire the need to restrict, to exercise, to binge, to purge was constant. I managed to overcome, but it was hard. Aren't I too far into recovery to be dealing with these issues? I've been "recovering" for three years now. Sure, I've had slip ups. I've had relapses and set backs. But I've never had this strong of an urge to restrict and to be held accountable for every calorie consumed in years. Not since I first moved to Las Vegas. Living with my boyfriend forced a lot of my eating disordered behaviors to stop. He wouldn't stand for them. I tried to hide them, but he always found out. Eventually I gave up and gave in to him (thankfully). And we've lived happily together ever since. But he's out of town for 10 weeks (2 down, 8 to go) and I'm all alone in this apartment by myself with no one to watch or to notice. No one to tell me to eat and no one to be upset if I don't.

Plus, there's all this added anxiety with my Mom being engaged. It's a lot of pressure. Restricting, counting calories, manic exercising, binging, purging--those are all coping mechanisms--all twisted ways to handle the pressure. And I know that behavior is not okay!

I want to live!

I want to thrive!

Remember?

I thought I made this all very clear to myself.

Was my eating disorder not listening?

I have no doubt in my mind that I can overcome this. I know I will. I want to. I have to. Recovery is always the right thing. It is the only option. Being sick is not an option. Relapse is not an option. Fighting this is.

It's just that my eating disorder doesn't fight fair.